


Hey There, Pumpkin

by Lexalicious70



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: M/M, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:54:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27013087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexalicious70/pseuds/Lexalicious70
Summary: Quentin and Eliot get caught in a thunderstorm while at a pumpkin patch and take shelter in a nearby tent, where warming each other up leads to much, much more.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36
Collections: Kinktober Horror Erotica Collection by Quentins_Quill





	Hey There, Pumpkin

**Author's Note:**

> For Kinktober: The Queliot Edition, day 14: "Roll in the Pumpkin Patch."

“Tell me that isn’t thunder.” 

Quentin glanced up from his search for the perfect pumpkin to see Eliot frowning at the sky. 

“The forecast said cool and cloudy with a slight chance of rain, but nothing serious.” 

“Call me cynical, Q, but that doesn’t look like ‘not serious.’” 

Quentin followed his partner’s gaze. When they’d left Brakebills that morning for a pumpkin farm near Woodstock, the sky had been turquoise blue with a few fat, cheerful clouds. Now, thunderheads were devouring the last of the blue and lightning flickered within their towering masses. Thunder rumbled a warning and the other visitors paid for their gourds before hurrying away to the cars that lined the street and a large dirt parking lot beyond. Eliot pulled his cardigan closer to himself as a cold, stiff wind picked up. It rattled the dry stalks of the nearby corn maze until they sounded like the clatter of rolling bones in a casket. 

“Q, we should get back to the car.” Thanks to the crowds, it was parked along the roadside about a quarter of a mile away. 

“Maybe it’ll blow over. Sometimes it does--besides, I haven’t found the best pumpkin yet!” 

Affection warred with annoyance on Eliot’s face. 

“Everyone else is taking cover. Come on, we’ll find a Starbucks and get some hot chocolate. You can have extra whipped cream on yours,” he coaxed. 

“Okay, just a few more minutes, I promise! I know the best one is in here . . .” Quentin went from pile to pile, and Eliot flinched as the next rumble of thunder carried a muted but definite crackle of warning. 

“Q--” 

Eliot got no further. Lighting struck, so bright and close that Eliot could smell the ozone of the strike, and the sky opened as thunder cracked a deafening bullwhip over their heads. Eliot yelped and covered his head with both arms before stepping over a row of pumpkins and grabbing Quentin’s hand. 

“Come on!” He shouted over the rising wind as he glanced around for shelter. A large makeshift tent made of poles and sheets of canvas stood nearby, its one open side facing an empty, harvested field. “This way!” Eliot said, pulling Quentin toward the tent. Quentin slipped in the wet soil, went to his knees, then gasped as the rain turned to hail and began to pelt them with ice chips. Eliot hauled Quentin to his feet and they stumbled through the mud the last fifty yards or so to the temporary tent. Hail bounced off the stiff canvas, making a steady, rapid ticking sound. The tent held a drift of pumpkins in one corner, a long folding table, and a stack of green wool blankets, presumably, Eliot assumed, to cover the tables when additional space was needed for more pumpkins later on. A large hay bale sat in the opposite corner and Eliot used one of the blankets to cover it. Quentin stood there, his teeth chattering, his sweater soaked. 

“El, I’m so sorry!” He ran a hand through his sopping hair. “I didn’t think it would come on that fast--oh, your shoes . . .” 

“Never mind, Q,” Eliot said as he shook out another blanket. “You’re freezing, come here.” He took his partner’s hand and tugged him closer, hands going to the hem of his sweater. He pulled it off, wrung it out, and laid it out on the table to dry. He draped the other blanket over Quentin’s bare shoulders before taking off his cardigan and laying it next to Quentin’s sweater. His paisley button-down had stayed somewhat dry. 

“It came up so fast,” Quentin said again as he tried to wipe mud from the knees of his jeans. 

“It did. It’s not your fault.” He finger-combed Quentin’s hair. “Just a sudden squall.” He wrung some water from the ends of Quentin’s hair. Another crack of thunder made them both flinch, and Eliot sat down with Quentin on the covered hay bale. 

“We can wait it out here,” he said, and Quentin leaned against him. “My poor honeylove . . . you’re shivering.” He put an arm around Quentin as he watched hail bounce and melt on the ground outside. 

“I’m sorry,” Quentin said again. “You didn’t even want to drive up here.” 

“Oh . . . maybe I was a little grumpy about it--” 

“Grumpy? You asked me when I was writing my letter to the Great Pumpkin!”

Eliot chuckled. 

“I did, didn’t I. I’m sorry Q, I’m a terrible cynic.” He kissed Quentin’s lips. “You’re so cold!” He lifted Quentin into his lap and briskly rubbed his arms over the blanket. Quentin nestled into him and Eliot put his arms around the smaller man’s waist. 

“Am I too heavy?” Quentin asked. 

“Not at all.” Eliot stroked a hand through Quentin’s hair and Quentin buried his face in Eliot’s neck. Eliot shivered as he found a particularly sensitive spot and began to nuzzle it before pulling back to kiss him. Thunder cracked as their lips met, punctuating their passion. Eliot’s hands slid to Quentin’s bare chest, his small nipples already stiff from the col. Quentin groaned as Eliot ran his palms over them, gave each a kiss, then turned with Quentin on his lap. Hail ran down the tent poles as it melted. Eliot lifted Quentin up and then laid him back on the blanket as the other one fell off his shoulders. 

“I know what’ll warm you up,” he grinned as he unbuckled Quentin’s belt and pulled his jeans and boxers down. His cock, already erect, clubbed Eliot under the chin and he lavished the head with wet kisses until fluid beaded at the tip. 

“Fuck . . .” Quentin moaned as he leaned back on his elbows to watch. Eliot tipped his gaze up to Quentin’s and then held it as he sucked his lover’s hardon into his mouth. Quentin’s hips buckled and his shout of pleasure was lost in the sounds of thunder. Eliot’s dark curls bobbed as he sucked, both hands sliding up to toy with Quentin’s nipples. Quentin’s mouth dropped open in a gasp and his head tipped back. The muted jingle of Eliot using magic to undo his belt sounded in the tent and his left hand strayed from Quentin’s chest to his own erection, which he flogged as he sucked Quentin’s cock. Quentin groaned and his hips twisted as he chased that moment of falling into the tremendous white noise of orgasm, that lift before the absolute zenith, that sensation that shut him down, all but for the feeling of Eliot loving him. 

“Look so hot, El,” he groaned. “God, your mouth . . .” He watched Eliot’s erection flush and drip. “Yes, jerk it, jerk off and suck me--” tension broke in his lower belly and pleasure raced up the length of his cock as he shot into Eliot’s sucking mouth. Eliot pulled off a moment later, lips shiny, and fountained over his own hand. Outside, the storm, like their arousal, was slackening. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Half an hour later, as tattered storm clouds chased each other against a brightening sky, Quentin and Eliot walked back to the car, each with a large pumpkin in their arms. Quentin smiled up at his partner. 

“Not so grumpy about the pumpkin patch now, are you?” 

Eliot paused to face Quentin, then leaned down to kiss his lips. 

“It reminds me of you.” 

“It does? How?” 

“Because the heart of it isn’t really apparent at first glance.” He held his pumpkin in the crook of one arm so he could touch Quentin’s upturned face. “Or its beauty.” 

Quentin blushed as Eliot unlocked the car door. 

“What will you say to Margo when she finds out you want to carve jack-o-lanterns for Halloween after all?” 

Eliot grinned as he slid into the driver’s seat. 

“I’ll tell her to take it up with the Great Pumpkin.” 

THE END 


End file.
